


more adventurous

by somethingradiates (orphan_account)



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-24
Updated: 2012-06-24
Packaged: 2017-11-08 10:37:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/442292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/somethingradiates
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>written for a prompt on avengerkink asking for someone to find someone else's picture/scrapbook. of course those someones ended up being tony and bruce.</p><p>this was honestly supposed to be sort of angsty. then bruce started getting all handsy and it went from there. not porn! still working on porn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	more adventurous

**Author's Note:**

> i made [a thing](http://something-radiates.tumblr.com/post/25771145537/i-made-a-thing-for-a-fic) to go along with this.

“Dr. Banner,” Tony reads. Bruce looks up from his book – _The God Delusion_. Clint keeps trying to pay him to read it in front of Cap. “Bopulu, Liberia, twenty-five-twelve two-thousand-five.” 

Tony looks up from the sheaf of cardstock he’s holding in one hand. Bruce knows what it is, now, and settles back down on their bed, wincing a little as his back makes its discomfort known. He loves Tony, and he loves Tony’s sex drive, and he really loves that he’s having more sex in more positions than he actually thought were _possible_ six months ago, but he’s not exactly a spring chicken these days. He hadn’t exactly been kind to himself – well, ever, really, and it’s starting to show. 

“I’d ask questions, but this sort of answers the when and where,” Tony says, gesturing with the cardstock. It’s one of the only sentimental items Bruce owns. “So, Liberia? Why Liberia?” 

“There was a long period in my life where I closed my eyes and pointed somewhere on a map,” Bruce says. “And prayed it didn’t land in the middle of the Pacific.”

“What if it did?”

Bruce shrugs. “Go clockwise until I hit a country that might have something for me to do.” There was always something for him to do – there’s still always something for him to do, and he thinks Tony knows what he’s thinking, because he repeats, “So, why Liberia specifically?”, like he thinks Bruce is bullshitting him.

“I had some friends in MSF,” Bruce says. “Or Doctors Without Borders, I guess. One of them told me that they needed extra volunteers in... Sierra Leone, Liberia and I think southern India, around Christmastime. I was in Nepal at the time and had had my fill of the area for a while, and Sierra Leone is tough to get into on a good day, so. Liberia it was.” 

“What did you do?” 

Bruce determinedly doesn’t sigh. Tony doesn’t know these things, he knows that, and Tony’s asking out of curiosity, not out of being mean-spirited. It took Bruce a long time to get used to that – he’s still getting used to it. 

“Everyone gets sick,” he says. “Especially little kids that don’t have any kind of access to vaccines or anything, or proper nutrition, or clean water. During Christmas week we were in a city, but otherwise it was sort of out in the field, trying to visit farms and villages.” 

“How long were you there?” 

“Four months.” Bruce straightens up a little. “I wanted to stay longer, but.” He shrugs again with one shoulder like _so it goes_. “Stuff happened.” 

Tony is studying the picture again and Bruce, giving up, sighs and gets up, wrapping his arms around Tony’s waist from behind to rest his chin on his shoulder. It takes a little maneuvering, but once he does it, it’s surprisingly comfortable. 

“Did it get cold there?” 

“At night, yeah.” Bruce moves a little closer, makes himself a little more comfortable, and for just a moment – as he closes his eyes – he’s in the little house he and two of the other doctors shared, two young British guys, not even out of their twenties, and it’s hotter than hell until the sun sets. The insulated slicker jackets hadn’t been the most fashionable things in the world, but the fleece inside kept them from freezing their balls off and the noisy material outside kept the rain from working its way into their skin. “Cold and wet.” 

He opens his eyes again, searching the picture like there might be something he hasn’t seen before. The Bruce in the picture is a little over six years younger and, to current-Bruce, looks about five times that. 

“You don’t look much different,” Tony says, unexpectedly quietly, running the pad of his thumb gently over picture-Bruce’s face. “A little grey hair here and there, a little more of a beard. How old were you here?”

“Well, Mister Supergenius,” Bruce says, nuzzling into Tony’s neck a little, banishing most of his thoughts of coastal Africa, “if it’s 2012 now and I was born in 1976...” 

“Smartass,” Tony grumbles.

“You like my smart ass.” 

“I _love_ your smart ass,” Tony corrects, putting his hands on top of the ones Bruce has resting on his hips. Bruce really likes Tony’s hips – they’re not exactly _girlish_ , but there’s definitely sort of a shape to them. “Anyway, you would’ve been... what, Jesus, twenty-nine? The fact that you’re younger than me is an absolute crime and I refuse to acknowledge it.” 

“I was twenty-nine _then_ ,” Bruce says, mostly into the underside of Tony’s jaw. “I’m sure as hell not twenty-nine now.” 

“You could fool me, you randy old goat,” Tony says, but arches his neck obligingly to the side anyways. 

“You’re lucky I like you so much, _randy old goat_ would get anyone else thrown out of bed in a heartbeat.” Bruce is moving from the underside of Tony’s jaw to more towards his ear, now, and Bruce Banner may have a great many faults but an untalented mouth is not one of them. 

“We’re kind of in the middle of the bedroom right now.” Tony’s using his _I’m always right_ voice.

“Yeah, like,” Bruce starts, and damn it, he’s more distracted than Tony is right now. “A metaphorical bed, since I’m about ninety-six percent sure you’ve fucked me everywhere you possibly can as far as this room goes.” 

“And Cap’s room,” Tony supplies helpfully. “And Tasha’s.”

“Shh,” Bruce says, because Jesus Christ, if there’s anybody he doesn’t want knowing that he had sex in their room, it’s Natasha. “Do you want to delve into my private life more or are you satisfied?”

“Yes, Bruce, please bring up starving African kids while your hand is four inches away from my cock.”

“I’ve been asked to do stranger things.” 

“First starving African kids, then the weird kinky acts your previous, woefully inadequate lovers have asked you to perform for them,” Tony says, which, wow, projecting much? But Bruce doesn’t say anything, just takes the cardstock out of his hand and sets it on the table and turns him around for an overdue kiss. If Tony has more questions, he can ask them later.


End file.
